Page 2 of The Afterthought

My hand slides under my mattress to reach for the cash that I've been stashing away for the last two years. The cash that Greyson and I were supposed to use for our fresh start. When I pull it out, my eyes go wide. There is triple what I had under here before. Greyson must have added to it without me knowing before he ended things. This makes me angry all over again. Fuck Greyson Hayes.

We were supposed to do this together, but I'll be fine on my own. That's what I'm used to anyway. I spent a good chunk of my life before being the one to make sure I had what I needed. It's not like my dead-beat mother ever gave a shit about me after my dad died. All she cares about is her next hit.

I fight off the tears again as I stuff the money into my bag before grabbing the last few things I want, including the picture of me and my dad when I was younger, to shove inside with the cash. With that, I give the room one last glance before walking out the door.

I can't get out of Dune Valley fast enough. It's time to start fresh and focus on myself. I'll never let someone hurt me like this ever again.

Chapter 1

Avalynn - 7 years later

I'm in line at the coffee shop I've been frequenting to get my daily caffeine fix when someone bumps into me. Why can’t people just respect your personal space? I've never understood why they always have to stand so close to you. It's not like it will get them served any faster by being right next to you. I turn around, determined to tell whoever this is off, but I freeze.

Standing before me is a man who looks to be just over six feet tall, covered in tattoos, with a ball cap covering the shaggy blonde hair that's pulled into a low bun. I glare at him while also taking him in. He looks clueless about the fact that he just bumped into me. Life has taught me to stand up for myself regardless of the situation, or who puts me in it, so I square up to him.

"Maybe try to take a step back and be better at your situational awareness so you don't bump into people." I turn to give him my back without giving him a chance to respond.

I feel him lean down behind me. His breath hits my neck, and it makes me stiffen. "What if I did it on purpose so I could get a chance to talk to you?"

I whip back around. "If that's the case, I would tell you it's pointless. I'm not interested."

"I don't think that's true. I noticed the way you looked at me when you first saw me," he taunts.

I raise a brow at his audacity. "Listen, buddy. I'm really not in the mood. I haven't had any caffeine yet today. There is no outcome where you and I continue this conversation.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Let me guess, you expect us to end up going on a date, and at the end of it, you end up in bed with me? Pass."

He raises a brow. Of course, he thinks I'm trying to play hard to get or something. It's always the same with guys like him. They believe that just because they're tall and decently good-looking, they can push until they get the desired answer. It's beyond infuriating.

A stupid smirk crosses his face. "You're thinking about how cute I am, aren't you?"

Seriously? Who the hell does this guy think he is? I scoff and turn away from him. I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. He’s not wrong, though. The line finally moves forward, and it's my turn to order. I take my time ordering my usual iced caramel latte with oat milk, a splash of brown sugar syrup, and a shot of espresso. When the cashier asks for my name, I give them a generic name because I don't need the guy behind me knowing my real name.

They hand me the blueberry muffin I ordered, and I step to the side to wait for my drink. With any luck, it will be ready quickly, and I can find myself a table before the tall and handsome but full-of-himself man tries to talk to me again.

"Rachel," the person behind the counter calls out before setting the drink down. It takes me a second to remember that's the name I gave the cashier. I scurry over, grabbing my latte before heading to a table in the far corner.

Once seated, I pull out my phone to scroll through my emails and lose myself in my work. It's not always easy being a freelance private investigator, but it provides me with the freedom I want and a steady cash flow.

Legally, I'm not an official private investigator, but I'm as close as you can get without the schooling and proper licensing. I've done enough jobs over the last several years that I get most of my clients by word of mouth or through the website I have set up. I didn't think my life journey would lead me across the country to Massachusetts, but here I am.

Morality may say some of the things I do for work may not be right, but I don't give a fuck about that anymore. I'll stalk whoever I have to in order to give my clients peace of mind, carefully, of course. I don't need a repeat of the incident from a few years ago.

My dad would be ashamed of the career choice I’ve made. He was the sheriff in my hometown and always lived up to the highest standards. He was genuinely loved for his reputation. I'm sure he's rolling in his grave right now. I was his entire world. We did everything we could together when I was younger. I'm fortunate that he taught me how to protect myself, even though I've failed at that over the years.

My heart aches at thoughts of him. He was my best friend for the first ten years of my life and the only semblance of normalcy I had growing up. My mother was always too focused on finding her next high. I watched her struggle for the majority of my life with her addiction. She would be clean for a few months, only to fall back to the drugs again. I think that's why my father always made sure to spend so much time with me. The selfish bitch didn't even bother trying to reach out to me after I left Dune Valley.

I got a call a few months ago from some lawyer telling me that she had passed. The drugs finally won. Apparently, she left me the house in her will. I didn't even realize she had a will. I had him mail me the keys, but I haven't had the courage to show my face in that town again.

Someday, I'll find the strength I need to go back there. Until then, the house and whatever few belongings she didn't sell for drugs will be fine sitting there waiting for me. I make sure to have a friend check in on the place a few times a month to ensure there aren't any squatters who have claimed it as their own.

My phone rings, pulling me from my thoughts, and I look down at a number I don't recognize. I roll my eyes and contemplate whether or not I want to answer it. There's a 50/50 chance of this being either a new client or a bill collector. After dealing with the douche canoe in line, I don't really want to deal with either of these options. Reluctantly, I press the answer button and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hello," I breathe out cautiously.

"Hello, is this Miss Avalynn Blake?" the voice on the phone asks.

"It is. Who is this?"

"Hi, Avalynn. This is Sheriff Wolfe with the Dune Valley Police Department. I hope you're doing well. I was calling to inform you that your presence is required in our office as soon as possible."

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